The Hannah Montanas
by MileySmilez
Summary: Hey, guys, I'm Miley Stewart/Hannah Montana. But whoever thought I could be apart of the twin Hannah Montanas? And nobody knows we both exist! -I kinda stink at summaries right now, but give it a shot-
1. The Really Surprise Assembly

**A/N: Two things. One, I don't own Miley Cyrus/Stewart, Disney Channel, Hannah Montana, Lily Truscott, or whatever! I only own my creativity. Ha. Second thing: I know I've been starting a lot of stories but if I get a good idea, I at least post the first chapter so that I don't forget it. Call me stupid, but that's what I do. Don't read if you can't a) be patient or b) give me a couple ideas. Oh, wait, **_**three **_**things: When Lily and Miley or anybody is passing notes, Miley is always bolded and the other person is always italicized.**

Lily and I filed into the auditorium, attempting to score _back _row seats for the assembly, which was unsurprisingly very popular. We got the best seats—the back row, the corner, and right behind the basketball teams (the tallest boys and girls in the county). There we could write notes to each other while our principal tried to bore us to death. Soon the lights dimmed slightly and the principal fumbled with the microphone, which emitted some feedback. The whole audience jumped. When he finally got control of his microphone, the assembly began.

The first part was relatively boring, including the usual things. Lily and I wrote notes during this.

**This is the most boring assembly all year, I bet. What do you think, Lil? **

_I totally and completely agree—why can't we do something fun? How about we have a "Vote 4 Your Own Assembly" content? I mean, seriously, is a little fun too hard to—oh, my gosh, they just said your name! Well, kind of your name. You know, your-your name. If you catch my drift. Which you might not. But you should._

**Lily, I understand. Seriously. Could you be any less subtle? But why would they say my name? Did you pick that up? **

_No, but I'll know in a sec…_

Lily reached forward and tapped one of the basketball players. "Excuse me, but did they just say Hannah Montana?" she asked politely. The guy grunted like a caveman but nodded. Lily rolled her eyes, not even bothering to thank him. However, I freaked out. "Why is he talking about me?" Lily shrugged and we both listened to the principal.

"So as I was saying, this whole assembly was just an excuse so we could give you a huge surprise! Hannah Montana is coming to perform! I was just stalling you until we were prepared. The show will start in ten minutes. Right now you may talk quietly amongst yourselves." And he left the stage. People cheered, but probably because either a) they were about to see Hannah Montana or b) they really wanted him to leave.

Most likely a mixture.

Lily nudged me. "I didn't know _Hannah _was performing," she said, hinting. I shrugged nonchalantly. "Neither did I. But I'll just sneak back there and check it out. It's probably a huge misunderstanding and I can just call my dad, he'll bring over my wig discreetly, we'll temporarily postpone the show, and then it'll be all good," I whispered. Lily was being mulish. "Oh, yeah? Well what if somebody else is pretending to be you, huh?" she demanded. I rolled my eyes. "Lily, it's going to be alright. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom," I lied. I shot up and marched out the door that led to the backstage entrance and the restrooms. I grabbed some snacks out of my backpack (that we were asked to bring since the assembly would last until the finish of the school day) that were supposed to be for my club meeting after school. My members would understand. I tapped on the door to the backstage entrance and then tiptoed in. My principal was backstage talking with two people disguised by sweatshirts and hoods and hats. I shrugged. They were probably representatives Daddy had sent over to warn the principal that Hannah would be late (when I say Hannah I mean me!).

"Excuse me?" I interrupted meekly and as politely as I could manage. One of the hooded figures turned to glance at me and immediately ran into a portable dressing room (we have an incredibly large backstage). I shrugged off the insult and took a deep breath of bravery. "I have this snacks for you guys. But, I do have a price," I said craftily. The principal liked me a lot, and would basically do whatever I wished. "And what might that be, Miss Stewart?" the principal asked in fake formality. I smiled. "I want to see Hannah Montana for just one moment. I won't even talk to her or anything. I just want to be the first to see her," I pleaded, giving my best puppy dog pout. He grinned a large one. "Of course," he said to my shock and displeasure. "Why, let me fetch her." He disappeared and came back with the retreating hooded figure. "Miss Montana, this is Miss Stewart. Or Hannah, this is Miley. She's one of your fans. Would you like to meet her?" he asked kindly, as though speaking to a child with autism who needed gentle and over exaggerated words. **A/N: No offense to any autistic people. What I'm implying could be using a different case of autism than you have. Please don't be insulted by it. **"Hannah" shook her head violently.

The principal gave her a strict look and said, "But I want snacks!" and rudely snatched her attachable hood off of her head, revealing blonde hair. My blonde hair. My wig. My face. Me. Or was it me?

"Howdy, Myyyyllleee."

LUANNE!


	2. The Deal and Conditions

**A/N: LOL no Luanne doesn't have autism. Miley was just comparing the principal's way of talking to what he thought was a popstar to the way you'd expect someone to talk to a disabled child.**

I instinctively screamed. The principal chuckled. "Now, now, Miley, I know you are excited, but I'm sure that Hannah's ears have handled all the screaming they could handle from adoring fans." I rolled my eyes. "They probably have, but it was from listening to her victims, not from adoring fans," I murmured under my breath. But "Hannah" heard me and she scrunched up her face unattractively (not much of a change) and said in her me-accent, "Excuse me, sir, may I please speak with, um, _Miley _privately for a second? I like to connect with my fans personally." The principal smiled and wandered off, whispering, "What a saint."

The second we were safe in the confinements of the portable dressing room, Luanne pinned me against the wall with arms strengthened from years of pig wrestling. "Leesten up, Myyyleee," she sneered in her original accent, "I here planned this little supprazz for ya. And you ain't gonna ruin it, ya hear? I just wanna get away from my folks and get some time in the limelight. Is that too hard for me to ask? I won't spoil your seek-uh-ret. I just wanna see what it's like being number one. So let me do what I want and you won't get hurt."

I was relatively glad that she wasn't planning on ripping off her wig the second she stepped on stage, but you couldn't completely trust a devious person such as Luanne. So I delved further into her promise. "And what if I don't?" I asked delinquently. She pushed into my shoulders harder, pinching the skin. "Then I will expose your secret," she said in my voice. "I mean, come on, I already look exactly like you, both ways around. And I sound like you. Oh, and I know everything personal there is to know about you, since I'm your cousin." I had to break her streak! There had to be something wrong with this plan for her! "Well, Luanne, in case you haven't yet realized—you can't sing," I pointed out sourly. "How are you going to cover that up when you go out there and grab the microphone? People are going to expect my beautiful voice to come out of the speakers, not a broken can opener's." Luanne formed slits with her eyes. "Thank you for so rudely reminding me. Besides, it's not like you sing live. I brought a lip synching track—I'll just use that. I practiced weeks before coming here, and it actually looks like I have your voice. It'll go seamlessly," she assured, still using my voice. I stared at her blankly. "I sing live," I informed her. She gave me one quick shove into the wall and moaned. "You are so stupid," she spat. "Well," she said, suddenly turning bubbly, "time for my show. Oh, and one more thing—don't tell your dad, my manager, that I'm not really you. See you, loser."

"You can't make me leave."

"Watch me. Security!"

Okay, so maybe she could. In a second's time I was back in my chair, explaining the whole situation to Lily on paper, which would be ripped to shreds and hidden with the rest of our note debris in the bottom of our backpacks. She perused the note and then gasped. "She's going to pose as you?" she questioned loudly. A few heads turned around us. I clapped a hand over Lily's mouth and made the crazy sign with my other. The heads faced forward. "Yes," I hissed. "And there's no way I can stop her without blowing my secret. Odds are I'll be the one who blows it since I'm so klutzy. Lily, what am I going to do?"

And Lily surprised me. "Ride with it," she advised. "What?" I practically screamed. "I'm just supposed to live my regular life and let her live my other life as if it's no big deal? How is that going to work? And what if she messes everything up, which she's apt to do?"

"Don't worry. If you do anything she doesn't like, she'll reveal your secret. But if you stay out of her way and let her be you for a bit while we devise a plan to safely steal back your title, she won't expose a thing," Lily calmly and patiently explained.

"Oh…I understand. Good idea. That way, there's less stress on my part. But it's going to be kind of odd watching her be me and on TV and at my concerts." Lily had a plan for this too. "Your dad is still the official manager of Hannah, since the whole reasons Luanne's here is to escape her parents and get the attention she never received (or deserved), meaning that her Robby Ray look-a-like father isn't posing as your father. But because she told you not tell him that she was really you (weird sentence), you're going to have to discreetly tell him and make him swear to be subtle the whole time. Make sure that your father erases all of Hannah's plans. Reschedule concerts, postpone interviews, whatever. Just make sure Luanne's agenda is clear. That way she can't do much damage. And he'll keep rescheduling and postponing until you've gotten your position back." I smiled. "One second." I whipped out my phone and flipped through the calendar (which was password protected). "Great! Hannah's free this week. That's odd, but it's obviously fate! Good. Now I don't have to upset any fans or talk show hosts. Trust me; you don't want to get either of them angry!" Suddenly, the lights dimmed and, from offstage, the principal announced, "Ladies and gents, it's my astounding pleasure to present you, _Hannah Montana!"_

The drum rhythm to "Best of Both Worlds" began pounding out of the speakers. Luanne had apparently been rehearsing her dance combinations and watching my concert tapes, because she looked professional and put-together, different than usual. She didn't miss a beat or a cue. She came in perfectly. I was shocked. She was basically Hannah except for the fact that she couldn't hold a note. After she successfully completed the number, she bowed politely and daintily to the roaring applause emitting from everybody but Lily and I. (In case you're wondering, it turned out Oliver wasn't there that day). After the mini-concert was finished (four songs only), Luanne made a final bow and left the stage. I must say she was quite a natural up there. If only she could sing!

**A/N: Semi bad ending I know, I have a lot of those. But I don't know where else to take this chapter that wouldn't be excruciatingly long and never ending.**


	3. The Basement Dweller's Secret Rehearsal

**A/N: Super special thanks to **ekmemerald **for giving me the idea for this chapter. SUPER SPECIAL! ******

The rest of the day I could barely pay attention to what I was doing. I ran into four walls, tripped over ten things/people, and ignored three people. Make that four.

"Miley? Miley? Hello?" Lily waved a hand in my face. "Earth to Miley?" An alert expression replaced my spacey one and I asked irritably, "What do you want?" Lily rolled her eyes. "I asked you if you wanted to solve for x or if you wanted to find an equivalent ratio for thirty fifths over one-hundred-twenty," Lily calmly explained. "Equivalent ratio," I claimed immediately. I'm not a total math whiz, but I get by. Equivalent ratios are definitely my strong point, since I love multiplication and addition, and normally, to get an equivalent ratio, you've got to multiply (or divide if preferred). Lily began solving for x (algebra). I worked the problem quickly, devoting half of my brain to math and the other half to devising my plan.

"Miley, are you finished? We've gone to turn in the _finished _(as in done) assignment before the bell rings or the ones we didn't complete will be marked wrong!" Lily urged, jostling my arm slightly. I sluggishly handed her the piece of paper with my equation. She scanned the work until she reached my solution, where she let out an exasperated sigh. She jabbed a finger at the answer and quiet-yelled, "Miley! The solution to the problem is not 'Luanne!' You're obsessed with her. Don't worry; we'll definitely take her down when the time is right and before she can do much damage. But right now, it's best to play innocent. Unless you need to go talk to the guidance councilor and tell her all about you being Hannah Montana!"

"I'm sorry," I apologized sincerely and genuinely. "Let me work over the problem again. My work is mathematical and not-Luanne related, so I'm sure if I just take another look at what I've already deciphered I can figure out the solution." Lily handed me back my sheet and I took another look at the work I'd already done. The problem was extremely simple, but my work was sloppy, so I completely redid everything quick. First I changed thirty fifths to a mixed fraction, which was six. Then I multiplied it by two, the smallest and easiest number (who cared about impressing anybody?). That was twelve, obviously. Then I doubled one-hundred-twenty, which equaled two-hundred-forty. I quickly wrote two over two-hundred-forty, reduced it to one over one-hundred-twenty, and I was done. Quick and easy. Probably the easiest problem on the sheet and I still had difficulties with it! Luanne was taking over.

"Here." I proudly extended my piece, Lily copied down the answer underneath the problem on the actual worksheet, stapled our work to the back, and turned it in to the bin. Then we were allowed to talk. Lily purposefully avoided conversation that included Luanne or Hannah Montana, so no scheming took place. Then, after approximately five minutes, the bell rang and all of the eager students crowded in the halls so they could quickly grab their things and be on their way home for a school-free weekend. Of course, I wasn't so eager because Luanne could easily break her promise. I knew I was going to be in for a week of ruing, jitters, and anxiousness. Goody!

Lily and I walked home together, and she again dodged anything that she thought would be dangerous (verbally, not physically). When we reached my house, I said goodbye to her and hurried inside to talk to my dad. He wasn't home. And neither was Jackson, apparently. But I heard something coming from the basement. I quietly tiptoed down the stairs, grateful for the carpet to stifle the sounds my feet would make smacking against hard floor. When I reached the almost-bottom of the stairs, I tucked my hair into my shirt (the back) and peered around. In the TV corner I saw a blonde watching TV and obnoxiously shoving varieties of _our _food into her mouth. It was pretty disgusting. But then the blonde heard me and she jerked around. I should've known. It was Hannah-Luanne.

"Howdy, Miley—I mean, hey, Miley!" she greeted, switching accents quickly. She was obviously trying to adjust to the unfamiliar one. I only stared at her. "Luanne, I thought you weren't going to tell my dad that you snuck away. He obviously must have noticed when Hannah walked in the door, since he knew I was at school." Luanne snorted, but quickly clapped a hand to cover her mouth and nose, suppressing the sound. "Please! I stealthily studied his schedule (well, I overheard him talking about it on the phone), and I knew he would be at a restaurant meeting with Uncle Earl right about now, so I snuck in through that window over there"—she pointed nonchalantly—"and grabbed some food after I knew he was truly and for surely gone. I knew you'd be home soon but I didn't think much of it, seeing as you already know how I'm stealing your secret and all."

"You are not," I sneered, "stealing my secret. I'm letting you borrow it." Luanne laughed cruelly. "Letting me? No, I'm _letting _you keep it," she challenged, raising an eyebrow and cocking her head as if to say, "Bring it on, you can't hurt me, I have something over you!" And she did. If I lunged for her, maybe I could grab my wig and a chunk of her real hair, but that wouldn't accomplish much since she'd just tell my secret when she got away. If I started verbally combating her, she'd do the same thing, or at least threaten to. It was a lose-lose situation, unless I could craftily (and safely) make my way out of it. Maybe she'd still "have my secret" (as she puts it), but so would I. So I pantomimed sighing (my fake sighs sound odd so I just make it look like I'm sighing, which usually works) and began acting.

"Luanne, you're right. Sorry. I guess I should be more grateful, since not only are you letting me still be Hannah and Miley, but you're improving Hannah's name! I mean, that performance today, that was amazing! And I totally understand you wanting some more attention—Jackson does that, too! Hug?" I inched closer. She smiled and wrapped her arms around me briefly, then backed off and wiped herself as if cleaning away the "Miley-germs."

I decided to let Luanne have her fun. She'd abandon the scene when my daddy and Jackson got home, which could be soon, so I let her be. Besides, I did feel kind of bad for her—her parents are pretty strict. I ascended the stairs, but hung back a bit when I reached the almost-top, in case Luanne was going to say anything to herself about me. She did.

"I have something to tell you, Diana," she whispered almost inaudibly. "Well, the truth is I'm not just one person—I'm two. I'm really Luanne Stewart, from Tennessee, but I flew up here to become Hannah Montana. That's right, world, Luanne Stewart is Hannah Montana!"


	4. A Little Research and A Plan

I didn't think anything. All I thought about was the way to get to my room, which of course required little thinking. When I was safely in my room, I quietly shut the door and locked it, panting and breathing shallowly. I was probably sweating all over, but I was so furious and kind of upset. I shouldn't have trusted Luanne even for a second. Where had it gotten me? And she wasn't letting me keep my secret—she was full-blown stealing it away and keeping it for herself! I couldn't believe a mind as simple and idiotic as what Luanne's was thought to be could cook up such a devious and inhumane plan! There had to be some way I could discreetly stop her without her finding out until the last minute.

I wrote down what I heard her say, and then analyzed any hints or clues to where or when the interview would take place. I connected immediately with the name Diana. She'd interviewed me multiple times before. She was hardcore and always got to the bottom of things in less time than they supplied her with. Her segment normally ended with just friendly chats with her interviewee since they'd already gotten all of the business out of the way. Diana was from E! News. Luanne wasn't going for a super public appearance, was she? Unless she was trying to address the teen population of the world—yes, that's what she was doing. Teens are gossipers. And she needed news to get around fast.

I plugged my laptop into my bedside phone outlet and logged onto the Internet. I typed in the official website. Sure enough, there was a promotional YouTube video playing automatically on the side, an excerpt from a previously broadcasted show. It showed Diana announcing her last-minute interview with Hannah Montana, who "had something huge to tell her."

"Make sure you tune in Saturday. When? At ten! This one's going to be a juicy one," screen-Diana added, waving a little girlish wave and winking. Then the mini screen in the corner turned black and the video was over. I balled my hands into fists and pounded either side of me (it was bedding, don't worry!). I was so frustrated at myself and Luanne. But I was more frustrated that I only had about twenty-four hours, since the interview would be premiering at seven (since it would premiere at ten Eastern time, then nine in Central time, then eight in Mountain time, and finally seven here in Pacific time), and it was already five o'clock (okay, so I had twenty-six hours).

I sprung up from the bed and snatched my cell phone off of my bureau. I pressed the three button and mashed Send vigorously. Lily picked up on the second ring. I spent five minutes explaining to her what I'd heard and all of my research.

"And the interview's premiering live and nationwide tomorrow at seven o'clock!" I concluded, distressed. Lily sighed. "Whoa," she breathed. "I wasn't expecting this hit to be coming! She really is evil." I rolled my eyes. "La duh, Lily. Old news. Moving on. So how the heck are we going to track her down and defeat her before she steals my identity?"

I could sense Lily grinning on the other line. "I've got a plan," she practically shouted. "Shhh, that's great, but Lily, keep it down," I whispered, realizing that we were loud the entire time and anyone just outside the closed door could've heard us.

"Miley, Miley, Miley," I heard a voice say on the other end of the door. "When are you going to realize that you can't defeat me and that I'll find out whatever your plan is?"

Shoot. Why am I so freaking loud?

**A/N: Sorry for what I think is a bad ending, but I don't want to continue the chapter yet, because it would be way too long if I packed all of Lily's plan into here and kind of boring.**


	5. Confrontation and Lies

I really despise Luanne. The second I heard her stupid cackle, I whipped around, yanked open the door, and glared at her. "I need a little bit of privacy, Lu_anne!" _I spat. "Besides, why would I be plotting against you? You might expose my secret if I did," I lied obviously. Luanne rolled her eyes. "Puhlease, Miley, how dumbuh do y'all thinks I is?" she said in her uncouth accent (at least she was speaking regularly for her). "I heard you," she continued, converting to a regular voice and not waiting for my answer, "talking to Lily about a plan. I don't exactly know why, since there's really nothing to plan against. I'm not doing anything bad. Just living in the limelight a bit. I want a taste of the good life, and I thought you could reward me with that. I thought we were cousins." She mouthed the word "close" and pounded her heart with a sympathetic and thoughtful look in her eyes (it was completely fake). Now it was my turn to roll my eyes, but then I realized that Luanne couldn't know I knew she was going to completely steal my identity. So I stopped mid-roll and smiled.

"I'm sorry, Luanne. I'll text Lily right now and apologize I got her involved with my cruel and selfish plotting. So, do you have any interviews or concerts or events to attend?" I asked as subtly as I could. Luanne didn't put two and two together. "Oh, yes," she said bubbly. "I have a fantastic interview with Diana Walters from E! News. Don't worry, I've done all the research necessary—I know exactly what to say. I won't make you look bad. I'm so excited." I plastered a smile on my face. "That's fantastic," I managed through gritted teeth. Luanne was too busy basking in her vainness and twirling a strand of her (my) blonde wig to notice my strain. I preferred it that way. "Well, you'd better go, I'm sure Daddy and Jackson will be home in a sec." Luanne nodded importantly. "Of course. I just checked into a hotel across the way. I hope it's alright that I used my celebrity advantage. I'm broke," she confessed. I smiled and told the biggest lie I'd probably ever told: "Of course. When you're famous like us, you can get and do whatever you want. Rules and restrictions? Only guidelines." Luanne seemed satisfied with this and she left contentedly. I sighed and collapsed onto my bed. I fell asleep after a few minutes of lying there, worrying.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning I woke up (I had slept a lot!) and I crept downstairs, not prepared for what I'd see. I (surprisingly) saw _Lily _talking with a very irritable and drowsy Jackson. Lily turned around, saw me coming, and smiled largely. "Remember that problem you were having trouble solving in math the other day?" she asked me. I nodded, thinking she meant the equivalent ratio. "Well, I have the solution for it." I stared at her blankly. We'd already figured the problem out, hadn't we? Lily frowned, sensing my confusing. "You know, Miles, that one problem with line segment L always interfering with line M, H?" she asked, emphasizing on the L, M, and H. It took me a second, but her coded message suddenly occurred to me. Line segment L was the problem, Luanne, and she was always interfering with M and H, which meant Miley and Hannah! I nodded eagerly. "Oh, of course! I really need to figure that out." I shot a quick glance at Jackson. He showed no interest.

Lily and I hopped up the stairs to my room and I securely locked the door. "What's the plan?" Lily smiled and spread out a poster board on my bed. "This."

**A/N: CLIFFHANGER!**


	6. The Dressing Room Showdown

Lily's plan was fairly simple. I could pull it off. As quickly as it'd been announced, the time for Luanne to be at the studio, preparing for the interview, came. I snuck off to my closet, an alibi handy, and removed one of my hanging awards from its position on my wall. Underneath the picture was a combination safe. I turned the dial until the combo was entered. I gave it a little tug until a head mannequin was revealed with an identical Hannah wig. It was one of my backups. I combed it out gingerly and put it on my head, tucking in a few strands of loose brown hair.

I selected an outfit from my carousel of clothes. I had debated between pencil light wash jeans, black Uggs, and a black and silver striped square-neck line baggy top and white corduroys, pink ballet flats (not like actual slippers but the stylish kind), and a pink form fitting knee-length sweatshirt. I decided on outfit choice #1. It complimented me in many varied ways. I hurriedly caked on some makeup, wiped off the excess, and was ready. I looked pretty good for having done my own makeup.

I arrived at the studio wearing an oversized sweatshirt and equally oversized sunglasses. My hair was tucked in and I looked completely normal and unsuspicious. I snuck in through the back where there was less security guards to bamboozle. I miraculously got in unnoticed, so I crept back to where Luanne was supposed to be getting hair and wardrobe done. I (fortunately) found her looking in a small makeup mirror that magnified every single blemish on her face. She was dusting some concealer powder on a small, unperceivable pimple. I tiptoed slowly and precariously, holding one of my Hermes scarves in my hand. I was two feet behind her, ready to fasten her to her chair when she whipped around.

"Miley, Miley, Miley," she chimed in my voice. "How could you think I'd be so idiotic as to fall into your pathetic little trap? It's obvious what you were going to do. I can predict every move you'll make from here on out—or move you would've made if I hadn't discovered the plan. Why don't you just give it up? I found out I enjoyed the spotlight and I wanted to keep it on me no matter what. You can still be Hannah Montana when I'm finished—but everyone will think you're Luanne Stewart, not Miley. It'll be just like old times, except it won't be."

"I won't succumb," I snarled, proudly using one of my grammar vocabulary words (which was completely beside the point, but I couldn't help feeling "academically enhanced" as my teacher would say).

"Um, I don't really know what that means, but I'm supposing it's a variation of 'give up.' Fine, you can argue and resist all you want, but I think you should be thanking me. You don't want the secret out that Miley Stewart is really Hannah Montana, right? Well if the world thinks that Luanne Stewart is really Hannah Montana, then they won't even suspect Miley. And it'll be off your hands. You won't have to worry at all."

"You have the most twisted and stupidest logic I have ever had the misfortune to hear," I spat. Luanne bellowed a cruel and maniacal cackle. "Please, Miley, I wouldn't be so rude. Your life and your secret are both in my hands—one mistake and I might accidentally slip a detail that I shouldn't have. Or worse," she threatened. I was pretty angry. This situation was pretty much a lose-lose-lose-win-lose-lose situation. There were multiple paths I could take to failure and few I could take to success. So I decided to play it cool but believable.

"You know what? Fine. You do what you've got to do and I'll just stay back here, watching my life go down in flames. Have fun." Luanne smiled deviously at me. "Trust me. I will."

**A/N: Super sorry for waiting so long to update and then leaving you with such an intense cliffhanger, but I had to leave the chapter off someplace! ReviewsMORE. **


	7. Switcheroo

**A/N: ekmemerald—I'm going to try to use your other idea. I might not. Like I may use a part of it. But it might not be exactly how you expected it. And it might. Ha, I'm probably confusing you. Okay, let me rephrase that: I might use a part of/the whole of your idea if I can't think of anything as good, but I most likely will. I'm not sure. When I write a story, I pretty much makeup it up as I go along. Hehe. **

Luanne flounced out of the dressing room. I peered out of it, watching her go. She was stopped by Diana, who had makeup caked all over her face. But you need a lot of weird makeup to look good on camera, trust me.

"Hannah Montana," she said, shaking her head slowly back and forth. "I am just so tickled pink to finally meet you! My little daughter thinks the world _revolves _around you. This is going to be so great." Luanne smiled the smile she'd been rehearsing. Without practice her smile looked fake and messed up. "That is just so sweet," she said, touching her hand to her heart. "I would definitely love to meet this girl." Diana smiled back. "That's great! I brought her along to filming today to meet you if it was alright. Let me get her. Deanna!" she called. A little Diana look-a-like strutted in. She was wearing a Hannah Montana concert tee that was shredded and sliced and twisted in so many ways to look more stylish that you couldn't even tell it was Hannah (she bejeweled all around the text and pictures, too).

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and she was wearing lots of cheep pink makeup. She screamed and threw her arms around Luanne. "This is SO cool. I need to take a picture of us together or no one will believe that I actually _met _you." Without waiting for a response, she whipped out her _Sidekick LX _and snapped a picture of her clinging to Luanne. "So cool!"

I decided to stop watching right then and there. Luanne was looking horrified and her facial expression was too much. I was about to break into my notoriously obnoxious and loud laugh. So I quietly shut the dressing room door, pulled out my own O-Phone, and opened up a blank text message canvas.

**OMG l/h is getting attacked by mini-Diana, but she's out of the dressing room. She'll be going on in 10. **

Lily immediately responded.

**Get into position for phase two. It doesn't matter if she knows you're there. The plan will still go on.**

**K!**

I slid the phone back into its holster and into my pants pocket. I took one more peek and saw Luanne sitting in the interviewee's chair, getting a few final touches on her hair and makeup. I took a deep breath. The plan was going to be much more difficult now that she knew I was lurking behind the scenes. But I could do it. I removed my wig gently (I stored it in my sweatshirt pocket) and undid my hair. I plaited it into a long braid and pulled off my sweatshirt, balled it up, and set it on the ground ride outside the dressing room. There was a guy with a headset right in front of me, attacking a doughnut platter. It was pretty gross. But I needed that headset. I reached out (he was really close) and hooked my finger onto the headset. The rest would take extreme swiftness and agility.

_One, two, THREE!_

I yanked the headset off of his head while springing backwards and ducking into the corner of the dressing room. The guy was so idiotic he didn't even realize his headset was missing! Weirdo. I perched the headset on _my _head and donned my sunglasses. I took some of Luanne's gum and chewed it rudely and like a cow, something I never did.

_Okay, Miley, _I thought. _You know you can do this. Just walk up to Luanne and tell her she's needed in her dressing room for a surprise. She'll _most likely _fall for it, but I'm going to have to take some risks. Here I go._

I trudged over to Luanne's chair. "Mizzz?" I said in an obnoxious Brooklyn accent. "We needs y'all to go to your dressin' room on da double. We alls gots you a suprrazzz. Come with me." Luanne beamed. "A surprise? All for me. That's great. Hey, don't touch the celebrity." She sure got my attitude down pat—not. When we reached her dressing room, I led her in while staying on the outside.

"I don't see a surprise…." Luanne commented unsurely. "Really? That's too bad." I slammed the door and grabbed a large piece of wood (we set it there beforehand). I balanced the wood on two strong pegs. Luanne wasn't getting out soon. I unfolded my sweatshirt and scurried to the bathroom. I redid my hair and wig. Soon, I was totally ready.

"Hannah, did you change your outfit?" Diana asked me suspiciously. "Oh, yes," I said, "this was the surprise the crew prepared for me. Isn't this outfit cute?" Diana nodded. "Oh, yes, I totally prefer it to what you had on. No offense, but that was a fashion don't." I nodded eagerly. "I completely agree. But it wasn't optional—my manager picked it out for me." Diana raised her palm. "I know _exactly _how you feel, hon. Okay, so the producer is going to count us down in a couple of minutes. When he reaches one, the cameras will switch on and the opening will play. Then I'll introduce you and we'll proceed with the interview. Got it?"

**A/N: Dun, dun, dun, CLIFFHANGER. **


End file.
